Please (don't) lie to me
by solveariddle
Summary: Cal and Gillian know the truth. Sometimes it's just easier to lie.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story relates to the question whether it's better to tell the truth or better (easier?) to lie. Timeline- and content-wise it doesn't always tie in with the show and just so you know - there is some Alec in this chapter, but he (or the Cal/Gillian/Alec relationship) is not the center of the story. Will probably be a two- or three-shot. We'll see about that.

Rating for content and some swearing. I hope you enjoy the story. Reviews are balm for my writer's soul.

Beloved-the-Fool: I haven't forgotten about the story I still owe you. Promise!

**Disclaimer:** LTM and its characters belong to Fox. This is my way to keep Callian alive.

* * *

They leave the restaurant together after what must have looked like a pleasant evening if anyone had watched the two men and one woman. No visible signs that one of the men got annoyed at some of the remarks the other man made or that the woman tensed up when that happened. You would have needed an expert in micro expressions to detect that and the only experts in this field present in the restaurant at that time were those two.

"Nice evening. See you."

Alec stretches out his hand and Cal takes it despite the fact that what he really wants to do is knock the other man flat out because he sees it all – the twitch, the nervousness, the impatience. Alec can't wait to feed his addiction, inhale the coke, so that the world, that must wear him out so much that he needs the drugs, turns into a damask rose. A color that usually makes Cal think of the woman standing right next to Alec. Alec's wife. Dr. Gillian Foster. Cal's business partner and friend. Someone he doesn't want to get hurt, let alone by her own husband. How someone who is married to this wonderful woman can feel the urge to lighten his life by drugs is beyond Cal.

It was difficult enough to restrain himself from commenting some of Alec's rather stupid remarks while they were having dinner together. Cal knows that Gillian was aware of each moment he held himself back. This is even worse though. Gillian must see the signs of Alec's addiction, too. There is no way she could not notice something that obvious. But she hasn't told him about it yet and he plays by the rules. Things like that don't exist as long as the one involved doesn't mention it, and so far, Gillian hasn't mentioned it.

The three of them having dinner together is a seldom event. Sometimes Alec picks Gillian up at work to have dinner. Whenever that happens, Gillian invites Cal to join them, ignoring that her husband would rather spend the evening alone with her. Cal typically says no, making no effort to conjure up excuses. He simply dislikes Alec and Gillian knows that. But Cal likes Gillian (actually, more than _likes_ but even if he is divorced, she is married and that's that). Therefore, on very rare occasions, he says yes because spending the evening with her is worth tolerating her bloody husband. He suspects Gillian knows that, too.

"Night, Cal."

Alec's hand is replaced by Gillian's. Cal is used to hug her. Goodbyes, hellos, happiness, sadness – he welcomes every possible pretense to do it. They don't hug in front of her husband though. It's a given. So, her hand it is instead and her voice and her smile. Could be worse.

Cal wishes he could tell Gillian in plain words that he did enjoy the evening, that her company was worth it and the only reason why he joined them in the first place. _Use your words. _That's her common request when she wants to know what he thinks but not tonight because she already knows what he thinks. At least most of it. There are things he hides perfectly. She can't know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"Goodnight," he starts as Alec puts his arm around Gillian's shoulders, marking his territory. Cal understands it; he would do just the same. That doesn't mean he has to like it.

Gillian looks him in the eye and Cal sees the unspoken plea. _I know you didn't actually enjoy the evening, but please don't tell Alec. Just let it go at polite, meaningless farewells._

Cal hates the thought that she is about to leave with Alec, with this weak version of a man she deserves. When he lets go of Gillian's hand, clenches his fingers and shoves his hands into his trouser pockets, she tilts her head back, the look in her eyes even more intense. Gillian is aware of the reasons behind this action. Cal only can't be sure to what extent. Maybe she is already aware of more than he would be comfortable with, more than he supposed. It wouldn't be the first time he underestimated her. He should know better by now. Either way, her eyes plead with him again for her husband. Cal can barely stand it. Whatever her reasons might be, though, Gillian means too much to him; he can't deny her request.

_Please don't tell the truth. Please lie._

He does.

* * *

Gillian is drunk, not only tipsy but tanked – there is no nicer way to describe it. She drank way too much alcohol during the evening and she enjoys herself way too much at the bar, surrounded by several men trying to catch her attention. Cal watches her from a safe distance, wondering how it is possible to be a little clumsy due to her intoxicated state and at the same time move as gracefully as she does.

They attend a seminar. Well, attended it by day. Now, it's over, but they will only head home tomorrow because the soiree is for networking. _Networking_. You could have told Cal as well to put his eyes out. He hates all this and most of all the _pompous asses_ as he calls the other attendees. It's actually no surprise. On some days, Dr. Cal Lightman simply hates people. With one exception that is. The one he is watching right now, watching over her because considering the amount of alcohol in her blood (or rather the rest of blood in the alcohol running through her veins), it won't be long until he has to get her out of here.

Of course, it was her idea to come here. Cal always managed to avoid these kind of events in the past. Gillian convinced him, though, that it would push their business ahead, get them new clients, or at least they would meet some new business contacts. Why the hell did he let her convince him? Must have been a weak moment or maybe he was distracted by the dress she was wearing then. _Business contacts. Clients. _Cal snorts, remembering her words. Yes, for sure. Just like the guy who gets a bit too close to Gillian right now, raising his hand to place it on her...

"Hey, Gill."

The man stares at Cal as if he was an apparition, what he is in a way, coming out of nowhere and forcefully pushing himself between Gillian and the stranger who falls back on Plan B and is suddenly very interested in Gillian's cleavage, trying to ignore Cal in the process. Something that doesn't go down well with Cal.

"Bugger off," Cal doesn't even try to be nice, putting his arm around Gillian's waist and practically lifting her down from the barstool.

"Hey, Cal," she greets him, all cheery and smiling, oblivious to the fact that he interrupted a bold come-on and is now quickly pulling her away from the scene. "Where have you been?"

Cal feels the hand of the man on his shoulder in an effort to hold him back. At least he didn't dare to touch Gillian again. Cal turns around.

"Hearing problems? What part of _bugger off_ didn't you understand?" Cal gets more aggressive, exuding danger, using a body language that served him well in the past to avoid fist fights in several bars. He may not look threatening at first sight, but he definitely can be intimidating if need be. In any case, it works here and now. The other man steps back and mumbles something, a feeble attempt to save his face, before he walks away.

"Look at you. You're my guardian angel," Gillian coos, her body pressed against his. She doesn't even try to get away from him, lets him lead her to the elevator without any resistance.

"Don't like when a wanker like that hits on a beautiful woman. Especially not when..."

"...when it comes to me?" she interrupts him. "When I am this woman?" She phrases the sentences as questions, but they both know they are not. This is a statement; she doesn't expect an answer from him.

It is an unexpected, sudden mood alteration from light-hearted to serious. Cal doesn't know what to make of it and perhaps Gillian doesn't either because, as sudden as it came up, she drops the subject again.

Gillian is standing so close beside him that their bodies still are effectively pressed against each other, resting her head on his shoulder. Cal feels the warmth of her skin through their clothes, the tickle of her breath on his neck. She shouldn't be so close to him. It makes him think about where their bodies are touching and where else he wants to touch her. He doesn't look at her, doesn't say anything, uncertain whether she is drunk enough so that the situation won't get even more awkward. The seconds tick away until the recorded message announces the arrival of the elevator.

They walk into the elevator, and this time, Gillian allows Cal to create some room between them; anything else would kill him inside this confined space. He doesn't know whether he is angry with her because she put herself into such a position (What if he hadn't been there?) or worried because this is not the Gillian he knows. She seems to sense his thoughts, throwing wary glances at him in between when she thinks he isn't looking. Save that the alcohol has made her slower than usual. He catches each gaze from her. And even more, he catches the flicker in her eyes that has nothing to do with being drunk. Something is going on; something is wrong.

The doors of the elevator open, and suddenly, Gillian can't wait to get away from him and into her room. Unlike at the bar, it is more difficult for her to go straight forward though. She stumbles and bumps against the elevator door on her way out.

"Easy, tiger," Cal mumbles, supporting her with one hand.

They have opposite rooms at the end of the same floor (Cal doesn't know if Gillian booked them on purpose or if it is a coincidence. Either way, right now, it is convenient.) and do an awkward dance on their way, a push and pull whenever she tries to get away from him and whenever he won't let her.

"Here we are," she announces when they have reached her room, leaning against the door with her back. "Thank you for accompanying me, Cal. You are a real gentleman."

Her voice is a notch too high, her happiness fake. Cal watches her until she looks bashfully at the ground.

"You know I'm never a gentleman, Gill. So, wanna tell me what's going on? Why all of this?" He makes an up and down motion with his hand that includes her whole body, her dress that is tighter and more low-cut than usual, her drunken state.

"Because I wanted to have some fun," she says after a brief pause. Defensively. Challenging. It's hard to tell, her facial expression as closed off from his abilities to read her as usual.

"So much fun that you don't want to remember tomorrow? So much fun that you can't have it sober?"

Anger is written large in her face for a split second, immediately followed by embarrassment. Bull's eye. Gillian is angry that his insight was dead on, but even more it makes her self-conscious. The skin of her face and neck takes on the color of a light red.

She still can't look him in the eyes. Cal knows that his history of one-night-stands and short affairs puts him into no position to judge her. However, he can't swallow the rage that is slowly burning him up. A rage he has no reason, or rather right, to feel, but theory and practice are seldom found together.

"You wanted to get laid," he hisses with clenched teeth.

It is the truth. Yet, his choice of words is deliberately rude. He wants her to feel at least some of the pain that is consuming him right now.

"No," she denies, then sighs, slumping down. "Yes... Maybe..." Her voice trails off. Gillian slurs a little bit, but otherwise, and despite the fact that he saw her have a lot of drinks and can smell the alcohol in her breath, she seems to be perfectly able to have this conversation. Even if she for sure doesn't want to.

"That's your way of getting new clients or business contacts?" he presses his luck, reminding her of the pleaded reason why she wanted them to come here.

She doesn't answer but purples this time, her embarrassment slowly giving way to anger again. Cal watches it guiltily satisfied. He went too far, but he got the result he was aiming for.

Then, finally, she looks at him and Cal realizes that he was wrong. He thought he was the only one feeling pain, that, as misguided and confusing her actions might have been, she was at least trying to have a good time earlier at the bar. Now, all he sees in her eyes is an endless darkness. And pain. So much pain.

Cal reaches out to touch her face instinctively.

"I don't know what I want," Gillian says tiredly. "I just wish things were different."

It is none of his business. Who she sleeps with. Where. When. Or at least shouldn't be if he was able to keep his distance. Cal is no moralizer and aware he deluded himself believing that she wouldn't have been able to handle the situation earlier by herself. He was just looking for an opportunity to be the British version of her knight in shining armor. Gillian is married and the only person it should concern is Alec although Cal doubts that Alec is able to pay much attention to anything aside from his addiction. Most likely he suffers from tunnel vision, his world reduced to white powder that makes him happy, his wife nothing but an unwelcome distraction.

So, no, Cal didn't feel the obligation to stop Gillian from going through with whatever might have been her plan out of moral reasons. But Gillian, on the other hand, is the most morally and ethically correct person he knows, to a point at which it sometimes plainly annoys him because Cal rather likes to bend the rules than obey them. Therefore, and no matter how gut-wrenching it was for him to watch her flirt with strangers at random, his actions were partly about denying her some fun out of jealousy (no use to talk around that) but also about getting her out of a situation that was completely unusual for her (not the flirting but the flirting combined with the alcohol and that strange mood she was in) before she did something she would regret later.

"Tell me what's bothering you, luv," Cal says in a soothing tone of voice. No more anger.

Gillian's eyes well up, but she won't shed tears, wipes them away irritated instead.

"I filed for divorce yesterday," she whispers.

She is searching for something in his eyes. Condemnation? She will never see that, knows that, just makes sure. Surprise? It is there. Not only in his eyes. It is written all over his face along with the relief. He probably shouldn't let her see it, but it is the truth and Alec deserves it because he didn't deserve her. Period. Something else? Their earlier talk comes to his mind.

"_Don't like when a wanker like that hits on a beautiful woman. Especially not when..."_

"_...when it comes to me? When I am this woman?"_

It makes all sense now. Her insistence they go to the seminar because she knew there was no way she would be able to pretend that it is a normal day like any other after she filed for divorce, no way she would be able to show up at work as if nothing happened. Their opposite rooms (by now Cal doesn't believe in coincidences anymore). Just as everything she does, Gillian for sure pondered over the divorce sufficiently to be certain, determined to go through with it. Yet, the emotional fallout is a whole different matter. She knew she would be hurt, unstable, fragile. That was the reason she wanted him to come with her, to protect her in a way because she wasn't sure how she would react and knows he is the one person who will never judge or lecture her, not only for the simple reason that he went through times much worse than these.

Cal is touched (She chose him, _him_ of all people, to be at her side during this time of her life.) and excited (A divorce means possibilities. It's a game changer, a big one.). He remembers, though, how he felt when he was in the middle of his divorce. Like a tornado. Sometimes he was the eye of the storm, quiet and eerily calm; sometimes he was the storm itself, leaving destruction behind wherever he went. Without exception, each decision he made back then when it came to other women was wrong. Just wrong. And as different as they are, Cal witnessed first hand tonight that Gillian was about to make the same mistake. She was about to throw herself at the next best man as a diversion, to boost her stricken ego. He wants to spare her all that, spare her the bitter aftertaste that would have been inevitable the next morning.

But how tell her without coming across as if he grudged her the fun or her newly found freedom due to double standards for her and himself when he can't tell her everything because that would be a mistake, too? It is too soon for that. What Gillian needs right now is a harbor, an anchor, no hasty actions or declarations. If she needs to blow off steam tonight, it shouldn't be with him, but if it isn't him, he can't let her do it. Simple as that. They are at an impasse and Cal isn't exactly known for his talent regarding relationship talk. In fact, he is well-known for an 80% chance to make things worse whenever he starts one no matter how good his intentions are.

Suddenly another thought crosses Cal's mind. Maybe it was some kind of test. Maybe Gillian wanted to find out whether he would interfere if one of the men became too intrusive or not (although he wonders at the possibility that she could have believed he wouldn't). Maybe she wanted to find out with whom she would end up right here in front of her hotel room. With his room directly opposite to hers, he would have had the chance to interfere even last-minute. So, what if she did intend to end up right here with him in the first place? But what if she didn't? An impasse. Again.

"That's all you have to say? Nothing?" Gillian's voice interrupts Cal's bundle of reflections. For once, the insecurity in it is unmistakeable.

"Gillian..." She is right; he has nothing to say because actually there is too much he wants to tell her and he seems to be unable to pick the right words.

"No." She shakes her head, misinterpreting his regret that he, Dr. Cal Lightman, acknowledged expert, seems to be unable to have a simple conversation - particularly in such an important situation like this. Then again, nothing concerning them and this situation is simple. "Don't pity me, Cal. That's not what I want and certainly not what I need. Especially from you."

_Especially from you. _It could only be a reference to their friendship. But in this moment, with the amount of alcohol in her blood and her lowered defenses, Cal sees enough in Gillian's face to know it's more. A hint. An admission even. He is almost sure by now that it was no test. Gillian had no plan; she acted on impulse, reeling from the whole situation without the slightest idea what would or should happen next. Just went with the flow, so to speak, that brought them here. He doesn't know whether she will actively push it any further tonight if he lets her or not, but he is almost certain that she will not resist him if he tried. What he won't.

"No pity, Gill. Never pity," Cal corrects her gently, his hand that touched her face before tenderly stroking her arm until it reaches her hand, holding on to it. "Just know that I'm here for you." It's not much, but it's the best he can come up with. It would be redundant to tell her that he appreciates her decision even if the outcome is anything but pleasant. She knows that already.

It is an intimate moment, the bond between them intense and raw. Nonetheless, he wanted to take part of what he said back the moment he said it. Considering the circumstances, it would have been better if she believed he pitied her than what she is about to find out. At least for now.

Cal taught Gillian everything about micro expressions, and meanwhile, the student has out-competed the teacher when it comes to reading each other. Therefore, now that he practically forced her to take a closer look, he can be sure that she will see it all. It's almost too easy. Textbook. His body language (leaning forward, touching her), his eyes (dilated pupils, on the other hand, his pupils are almost always dilated when he looks at her so that isn't actually remarkable), his micro expressions. The micro expressions will give him away. No matter what he doesn't want to tell her as yet, Gillian already saw it. His face is an open book; she can turn the pages however it pleases her.

Gillian takes a deep breath; she has come to a decision. Cal may not be able to read her, but he can read a mood when he sees the classical indications. Determination. She is about to cross their line based on what she saw in his face, based on what she feels, when of all possible moments this is the worst. Cal knows Gillian believes she is doing the right thing. And she is. It's only the wrong time. Her world is upside down, on fire, and she reaches out to the only thing that she believes will smother the flames. He will put out the blaze but not in _that way_; tonight he will be her friend and nothing more. The ink on her divorce petition is barely dry. This is way too early. Bad timing doesn't even come close. And since she is in no condition to be rational and realize that, he has to be the one to make her stop.

His hand that was caressing hers stiffens. _No,_ Cal thinks frantically. _Don't do this. As much as I want it, we're not ready for this yet, Gill. _

She frowns and studies his facial expression even more scrutinizingly.

"You know you can tell me everything."

Now, where did that come from? Cal has no idea, doesn't know why he chose those exact words when this is exactly what he does _not_ want her to do right now. He is no psychologist. Most likely Gillian could explain to him that his subconsciousness simply told the truth because she was honest with him. And true it is. Of course, she can tell him everything but not now, not when _everything_ would include that thing between them that should be better left unsaid for the time being. Bloody hell! Why does he keep saying the wrong things when all he wants is to do it properly?

Words are just words, though, and while Cal knows that Gillian always listens to what someone says, she listens even more to the way the words are being said and reads the person saying the words so that she can be sure what the words actually mean. And that is not always their literal meaning. Sometimes, in fact, it is the opposite.

_Please don't tell the truth. Please lie._

She does.

* * *

**To be continued**

...by the way, Cal hating small talk and networking – that's totally me. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **In the last chapter, Cal and Gillian deliberately lied because they knew that was what the other wanted. In this chapter, they want each other to tell the truth. Of course, they wouldn't be Callian if it was that easy (that and I love to write angst; you probably know that by now). At the end of the story, I will most likely have completely confused myself with all that truth-lies-and-something-in-between stuff. Well, as long as I don't confuse you, everything's fine.

By the way, it wasn't my intention to let Gillian's character appear weak and I hope it doesn't come across as if she is (cf. the last part of the story). I was just looking for issues that would cause strong reactions and hope to have chosen ones that fit their characters. It would make me very happy if you let me know what you think about it.

Thank you very much for your support & the reviews.

**Disclaimer: **LTM and its characters belong to Fox. This is my way to keep Callian alive.

* * *

"Yes. No. OK."

Cal hangs up the phone just when Gillian enters his office. She loves that about him – his inexhaustible energy. Cal never only exists; he is always surrounded by an invisible force field – intense, agile, more than a sexy brain. Much more, in fact, even if his sexy brain is one of her favorite attributes when it comes to his sophisticated personality. Cal showed her in many different ways how he is able to excite her – with his brain as well as with his body. Literally. And on top of that, Gillian is quite certain that she hasn't even seen half of it yet. She has to stop herself from thinking about it, can already feel the excitement tingle on her skin. There is no way Cal will not notice it the moment he looks at her.

In the end, it wasn't a question of months but only weeks until they got together, as in _really_ together. On some mornings, she still can't believe it is Cal lying next to her in bed, that it is his scent on her skin reminding her of the way they made love the evening before. Gillian stopped wondering if she will ever get enough of it, if it will ever become routine. She can't imagine it ever will, not as long as she loves him the way she does. And she plans to do that for a long time, a _very_ long time, basically _till death do us part_.

As expected, it takes Cal only a split second to recognize the look on Gillian's face. Well, she didn't exactly try to hide it.

"Any thoughts you want to share, luv?" he asks, grinning. "Or shall I rather say fantasies?"

She smiles back at him. Their innuendos always were fun but since they know that reality exceeds them, there seems to be no limit for sexy banter or shameless flirting anymore.

"It's a beautiful day," Gillian says instead of an answer.

It has become her code for _take me to lunch_. They both enjoy these breaks from work for the obvious reason that they are an opportunity for privacy so that they can share touches and kisses. All right, on some lunch breaks, it is a bit more than that – a quick, yet no less fulfilling, _shag _as Cal likes to call it with a wink. There is a very nice hotel nearby. It's not that their staff doesn't know or that they have something to hide. They adhered to their relationship from the get-go, no hide-and-seek. Still, work is work and they try their best to keep up the professional facade all day. But since this _thing_ between them is so wonderful and new, hormones going ridiculously wild at times, it is difficult and exhausting to cover it up, like diving and having to hold your breath for too long. Therefore, they need these breaks to come up for air in between.

"Your wish is my command. Let's have lunch." Cal pulls his hand away from the handset and stands up.

"Who was that?" Gillian asks, remembering that he was on the phone when she came in.

"Wrong number." He puts his arm around her on their way out. "Have I already told you today how beautiful you are?"

_Your wish is my command..._ Gillian shivers in anticipation. It's going to be _that kind of lunch_. Thank God, she is not hungry. And maybe there will be time for dessert later. Something with chocolate, of course.

Gillian giggles and puts her arm around him, too. She is happy, _insanely_ happy, her mind already figuring out how her command can make Cal fulfill all her wishes. Otherwise, she would have noticed the shadow that flitted across Cal's face when she asked who it was on the phone, would have noticed how he tensed up, would have wondered how weird it was that someone called Cal's extension by mistake. All calls are usually answered by their reception first; they give the phone number of their extensions only to family, friends and very important clients so that they can contact them directly. Actually, she does notice all that but only on a subconscious level for now because she is distracted by the circumstances in the best possible way. So, off they go to lunch, their happiness a shield sheltering them from the world and inconvenient truths.

* * *

A couple of days later, they have dinner together at Cal's house. Gillian and Cal split their time between his house and hers even if they spend more time at his. With Emily having a room there, although it won't be long until she leaves for college, it feels more like a family home.

They both love these domestic moments. Just being together in the same house, sleeping under the same roof. No more goodbyes after a wonderful evening. Only sweet, whispered _sleep wells_ and _good mornings_. When they have dinner together, it is Cal who cooks for Gillian most of the time. She is only allowed to do some preliminary work, and tonight, her work is already done. Gillian is sitting in the living room, reading a book, because that's all she is allowed to do until Cal's magic meal is finished.

When his cell phone rings, Cal doesn't hear it over whatever he sizzles in the pan and the music in the background. It could be an important call. Some of their clients don't really know the meaning of closing time or it could be Emily. Gillian locates his phone (under his crumpled jacket on the floor, of course) and brings it. It wasn't her intention, but out of the corner of her eye she catches the prompt _caller_ _unknown _on the display. It doesn't mean anything; a lot of people call them day by day. The moment, though, Cal takes a brief look at the display and casually states that it's not important and that he doesn't want to take the call, an uneasy feeling starts to set in. Again, it is not the mere fact that Cal doesn't answer the call. He is and always will be unpredictable to some extent. It's his trademark. But at the back of Gillian's mind, the situation starts to set something in motion – the subliminal memory of how Cal behaved when she came into his office a couple of days ago, the way he behaves now. Two sides of the same coin.

The ringing of his cell stops only to be replaced by his landline. Instinctively, Gillian turns around to answer the call, "You go ahead and cook. I'll take it."

By now, they are comfortable with answering each others phones. Even Zoe got used to it eventually. She doesn't come far though; Cal grabs her wrist and stops her.

"Not important," he repeats his earlier words. "Let it ring." Cal is good at keeping his voice steady, casual, as if it really was not important. As a voice expert, Gillian is impressed. As the woman in his life, it turns her stomach. What is going on?

"Wrong number again?" Her voice is breathy, shakily even. There are questions you don't want to pose, don't want to hear the answer. Then again, not asking is no option.

Cal lets go of Gillian's wrist and continues to prepare the food. Displacement activity. His movements are slower, though, as if everything just has become much more difficult. He looks at her and she wishes he hadn't.

"Gillian..."

It's a tone of voice she knows combined with a look she saw too many times before. Voice and look tell her to back off because he doesn't want her to know whatever that call is about. Most likely his past caught up with him another time and he is desperate to conceal it from her, believing she will think poorly of him when she finds out. They had this kind of discussion so often she stopped counting. Whenever something or someone from long ago appeared and Cal started to act strange, she assured him that it didn't matter, that it wouldn't change what they were to each other. It was true back then and it is even more true now, but he seems to be unable to believe her although she knows that he is working hard on it. While Gillian usually relented in the past, felt as if she had no other choice than to let it go, she won't do that now that they are together. Now, she has no other choice than to address it.

"No, Cal. Not anymore."

The person calling him is no serious threat; Gillian can tell as much. Otherwise, Cal would react differently, much more concerned. This is just an inconvenience he will handle somehow so that it will be gone soon as if it never happened in the first place.

"Tell me, Cal."

She gets closer to him. Experience taught her that physical closeness can be more helpful than any words occasionally. Their food is probably burnt by now, but Cal doesn't turn the stove off, grimly determined to pretend that this is business as usual, ignoring that the struggle to overcome his insecurities is written all over his face.

"Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

Sometimes Gillian thinks of Cal as an onion. She has to pull layer for layer off, and most of the time, it makes her cry because either the things she finds out about Cal's past are so sad or she cries out of happiness because he for once confided in her. This won't be one of those times though – no matter how much he is drawn to her physically and emotionally, no matter how much he loves her.

He is deeply sorry; she sees it in his face. It is the reason why she willingly grants him more time. This is not the end of the road even if he isn't able to open up to her as yet.

Her eyes plead with him one last time.

_Please tell me the truth._

He will but right now he can't.

* * *

"There you are."

He finds her on the couch in her office. Gillian turns around to look at him when he comes in and sits down on the couch right next to her, running his fingers through her hair. It is only a simple caress, but Cal knows that his touch always makes her feel better.

"Hmmm," she pretends to have just woken up, but they both know she didn't sleep. She fled to the safety of her office.

They had a case today that hit home. The police had asked for their help in a missing child case. Unfortunately, it isn't really missed by its parents, at least not as much as would be appropriate or normal given the circumstances. That was what Cal and Gillian came to realize during the interview with the parents. They are not involved, but they enjoyed the interview and their appeal in front of the camera later a bit too much. Especially Gillian had a hard time watching the couple practically bathe in the attention they got, most of the time only pretending their worries. Cal knew what she thought without even looking at her. _Why are these people allowed to have children and I am not?_

Their job was finished after they found out that the parents were not involved. The police has to act quickly, has to exclude possible suspects. That's why they hired The Lightman Group. There are no claims yet, no evidence that it is a kidnapping. Maybe the child just got lost and will be found soon. Then again, maybe it won't. It is a toddler, a little girl too young to survive outside on her own for long, particularly not during this time of year when temperatures drop below zero at night. Plus, there is a river nearby. The hope to find her alive decreases by the minute. To make things worse, she is the same age as the little girl Gillian wanted to adopt and that was taken from her.

"Wanna go home?"

The following pause is much too long so that Cal already knows her answer.

"I think I'll stay at my place tonight. My headache is killing me. I'm no fun to be around."

Cal plays with a loose strand of her hair. Somehow, his hands always end up touching and caressing her whenever he is near Gillian. He can't imagine being near her and not doing it. That is why it hurts even more that – no matter how physically close they are right now – she seems to be miles away, out of his reach.

"It is always fun to be with you, luv," he mumbles.

She laughs to cover up her tears or perhaps Gillian isn't aware at all that she is crying and is simply touched by his words and his efforts to take care of her. Despite the fact that she is lying on her couch, her body language is not a bit relaxed though. Cal feels her tense muscles when he caresses her shoulder.

They all have their weaknesses. This is Gillian's. Not the fact that _she_ cannot have children; she moved on from that eventually. Gillian is devastated that she can't get pregnant with _his child, _that _he_ cannot be a father again. This is her weakness. They have never talked about it to date; she never said it out loud. Yet, he knows it because he knows _her_. Since her first thoughts, even in the worst situation, never involve herself but the people she loves, Cal is quite sure that the pain she feels right now, triggered by their case today, is mostly about his loss not hers. He has to swallow his anger when he thinks of the unlikeable parents who are the reason for Gillian's desperation.

Cal remembers the brief, awkward situation when she told him in the middle of their first time that they would need no birth control. As if he was a stranger who didn't know her history, including that sad part. When Gillian saw his facial expression, she smiled apologetically _because_ _of course he knew and how could she be so stupid to say that_ and when he told her that _no, stop that, he would tolerate no self-reproaches_, she looked away and then they went back to what they were doing before and nothing was awkward anymore. Not in the least. After that, neither of them mentioned it again. Why touch on a sore point when the wound is still bleeding anyway?

Gillian knows him as well as he knows her. That's why she doesn't have to ask him if he wants to have children with her. If it were possible that is. She knows he does and doesn't want to put him in a position in which he either would lie so as not to hurt her or would have to tell her the painful truth. The fact that he doesn't mind whether they can or will have children doesn't matter because it matters to her. Cal only wants to be with her. Period. Then again, he already has a child and it is kind of hypocritical to be generous when he has it all (Emily, Gillian) whereas she... What Gillian probably doesn't know as yet is that the other way round, it makes Cal ache for her, too, that he can't give her what she wants – a child, to be a mother. There is still adoption, but in order to talk about that they have to talk about the whole thing for a start. Especially considering the bad experiences she made and the challenge it will be for her to give that approach another chance. Gillian has to set the pace. There is no way around it. And right now, it looks as if she is taking another step back instead of coming forward. Cal understands it, but it breaks his heart.

He keeps caressing her – her face, her shoulders and arms, her hair. There is no noticeable reaction though. She neither touches him back nor relaxes.

"I don't want you to be alone tonight," Cal says without interrupting his soothing movements. "You don't have to talk, but I won't leave you alone."

He turns into an overly protective man when it comes to her. Sometimes he is afraid it might be too much and frustrate her. However, tonight he will rather annoy her than leave her alone. Cal leans forward, putting his arms around her and pulling her up a little so that they are half-lying, half-sitting, leaning against the backrest of the couch. Gillian makes a slight attempt to disentangle herself but eventually relents. It's hard to tell whether she actually feels comfortable or simply gave up because she is too tired.

"You are not alone in this," he whispers into her hair. "We can talk about it if you want. Or we can just be silent."

Cal strokes Gillian's back, up and down, again and again, until her breathing gets regular. But just when he thinks that the worst is over, her whole body tenses and then she starts to cry in a way he never saw her cry before. A convulsive sobbing that shakes her body thoroughly. She buries her face in his chest, clutching at him as if she is about to drown. It almost scares him. Yet, he started it, didn't let her be on her own. Therefore, he owes her to be strong enough to witness and bear her pain. All he can do is hold her, show her that she is safe with him.

Most people experience Gillian as an overwhelmingly open, positive woman – tough when she needs to be but otherwise at peace with herself and the world. Cal knows, though, that there are steel doors in front of what she considers her privacy. No chance to kick them in. She has to open them herself and invite you in. It makes him proud beyond all measure that he is one of those few people she let in, most likely _the only one_ she trusts enough to see her like this.

This is not the time to talk. This is the time for comfort. Cal pulls Gillian even closer, hugging her to himself. He still wishes she would be able to tell him everything even if he already knows what this is about. His body language makes a last effort to convince her that she can, but at the same time he accepts that she told him as much as she could for now.

_Please tell me the truth._

She just did save that she was unable to use her words.

* * *

**To be continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Let me start with the usual shout-out. Thank you so much for your reviews and alerts. They make my day. Always.

Rating-wise, this chapter is a strong "T" due to content and language. Also a warning: This chapter deals with suicide. I took the liberty of expanding something we learned on the show and hope you cut me some slack. There is nothing explicit so that I think it's safe for everyone to read. Just so you know in case you're sensitive to the subject.

What else? Well, considering the warning, there is major angst ahead but also some hot and heartwarming stuff. So, be prepared. Since the chapter kept getting longer and longer, it is only about Cal this time (but of course, Gillian is part of it). The next chapter will focus more on Gillian (and maybe also on the mysterious phone calls Cal received in the last chapter, we'll see about that).

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. I just love LTM and its characters like you wouldn't believe.

* * *

"I won't do this any longer."

Gillian is furious, not simply irritated or angry, she is _furious_ and it takes a lot to make Gillian Foster feel nothing but sheer rage. Cal of all people knows that; he also knows that he is the reason.

She followed him into his office when he tried to walk away from her moments earlier as soon as he sensed she wanted to argue with him. It was a last, futile effort to avoid _the talk._ A talk about his current behavior. A talk that will lead to other topics he doesn't want to talk about. He still hasn't told her what was behind the calls he received. Gillian dropped the subject, but Cal is aware that it is not forgotten. This time, she knows the reason for his behavior. Cal can hear the words in his head she would probably use to describe it (or will use, provided he lets her) albeit she essentially understands why he behaves the way he does. _Insufferable. Outrageous._ For now, though, she chooses another introduction.

"You can't act like this and expect everybody to tolerate it."

They are standing in the middle of his office. Gillian stopped a few steps behind him and is talking to his back. She did neither bother to close the door nor does she lower her voice, obviously not caring who might be able to overhear them. Cal turns around.

"Might have gone too far. Sorry, luv," he tries to limit the damage, but she won't have it. It's too late. He should have known. Gillian is the most patient woman, most patient _person_, he knows but once the line is crossed, there is no holding her back.

"Don't tell _me_ you're sorry, tell Loker," she hisses. "What you said to him was way out of line. He did a good job and if you don't want to praise his work, because God forbid we all know you will never do that, then at least stop humiliating him."

Cal doesn't even remember what he said to Loker, but he is sure he _was_ way out of line and that she is right. The problem is that he is barely able to control himself these days, the upcoming event casting dark clouds over his life, making it a little bit darker every day. He doesn't want to fight with Gillian. It's the last thing he wants to do, knows that she only tries to help. Him. Loker. That's the way she is, one of many reasons why he loves her. And all he does is taking it out on her. _Insufferable. Outrageous. _She would be right to call him that. They already had a fight this morning before work at home. He doesn't remember why. Arguing seems to be the only thing that lets him breathe currently. He is no longer driven by good intentions and common sense but by fear and anger bottled up so deep inside of him that this is the only way to blow off steam.

_I don't want to hurt you_, he thinks, looking at Gillian, and her expression softens due to what she sees in his face.

"I will," he relents and then adds, "tell Loker," when he sees her questioningly glance.

"When?" she won't give up so easily.

"I'll do it Gillian, OK?" Cal raises his voice before he even realizes what he is doing, causing her to huff and look away.

"We both know why you behave like this, Cal, although you seem to be adamant not to talk about it," Gillian says quietly as if all energy suddenly left her body. "All I want is to help you, but I won't let you treat me and your whole staff like a doormat. Not everything is about you even if...," she stops before finishing the sentence. _Even if it is the anniversary of your mother's suicide in a few days._

"You know I'm here whenever you need me, Cal, but not like that."

Gillian turns around and walks out. Cal briefly considers following her, but it would be to no end. He closes the door of his office instead, burying himself in paperwork for the rest of the day or at least pretending that he has paperwork to do because as a matter of fact he gets nothing done, his thoughts a mess.

* * *

He pops in when passing Gillian's office later to tell her that he is heading home, expecting her answer that she still has some work to do. It is clear that she doesn't want to decide as yet whether she will stay with him tonight or not. They haven't given up their separate homes although they rarely spend the night apart. It would be the first time they did that because of a fight, but her body language signals that he is better off not addressing it now.

Therefore, Cal is surprised when he hears the key in the lock approximately an hour later. He picked up the phone a dozen times to call her, but he didn't know what to say. The relief that she eventually decided to come to his place is huge even if he can't be certain whether she just came over to check on him or to stay for the night. Gillian doesn't seem to know either. She is standing in the entrance to his living room, indecisive what to do next. He is sitting in his favorite armchair with a newspaper he didn't even bother to open, let alone read. Usually they have dinner together or at least a glass of wine and talk about the day, cuddle a little. Cal realizes only now that he didn't waste much thought on preparing dinner although he didn't eat all day. Gillian doesn't look, though, as if she is in the mood to have dinner with him. When he keeps staring at her without saying a word, she turns around and slowly goes upstairs.

"You don't have to be here, you know," Cal's voice sounds hoarse. The moment he says it, he regrets it deeply because she is the only reason he is able to stay halfway sane. _Don't leave, Gillian. Please don't leave._

His worries are unnecessary. "I know, Cal," Gillian answers but continues to go upstairs. She doesn't say _I want to be here_; it probably would be a lie. She feels obliged to be here with him because she doesn't want to leave him alone in such a situation. _In good times and in bad._ They are not married, but they made this unspoken vow to each other years ago, back then when they were only friends and not lovers, and they have lived up to it ever since.

The thick carpet upstairs absorbs Gillian's light steps; Cal is left in complete silence. He waits a few minutes until he follows her.

* * *

When he opens the door to his bedroom, Gillian has just taken off her high heels, pantyhose and skirt and is about to unbutton her blouse. She stops in the middle of the movement, fixated on his face. Despite the dim light, she obviously sees it all – the fear, the pain, most likely also the shame even if he really doesn't want her to see that. On top of it, though, she sees how much he wants her right now no matter how inappropriate it might be given the circumstances. He not only wants her; he _needs_ her. It is a raw and untamed feeling. Cal always wants her, but this is different. He never felt like this before. Gillian watches him wide-eyed. Then she gasps and takes a step back instinctively. When it comes to arguing, she always manages to outsmart him. Then again, on a physical level, he will always have the advantage. Not only because of his bodily strength (that he would never use against her) but because somehow he cast a spell on this wonderful, beautiful woman. She is simply not able to resist him (not that he would be able to resist her but that it is also the other way round amazes him every day anew). Therefore, in this situation, it comes as no surprise that the extent of his feelings almost scares her.

Cal gets closer and she takes another step back, uncertain how to react. When he takes another step forward, Gillian stands her ground, but it is already too late. He has cornered her in the confined space between the nightstand and the closet with her back to the wall. For a moment, neither of them moves. Her breath quickens; Cal notices the slight flutter of her neckline when she breathes in and out, trying to find a steady rhythm and failing. All the unspoken words that are trapped inside of his body want out, and since he still can't phrase them, they are urging him to find a different sort of release.

Before he can think it over, Cal's hand has already grabbed the back of Gillian's neck. He kisses her hard. She doesn't resist, even kisses him back but cautiously, with restraint.

"I need you, Gillian," he whispers huskily between fierce kisses, pressing himself against her as if she needed more physical proof of how much he wants and needs her.

She tenses and when he leans back, Cal sees that she presses the palms of her hands against the wall behind her, trying to stop herself from touching him. Gillian answers his unspoken question.

"This is denial, Cal. We shouldn't do that now."

Perhaps she is right. Most likely she is, being a psychologist and all that. Then again, Cal is at odds with himself. He wants to run away, literally run away, as far as he can. Meaning he wants to jump in his car, break every speed limit, and in case he survives that, stop at a random bar to drink himself into oblivion. And if that still isn't enough, there is always the possibility of a fist fight for no reason with a stranger. Anything to make him forget. The only way he can stay right now has to include a physical component. This is not about using her; this is about loving her more than wanting to run away. If she lets him, if she can tolerate this level of need.

"I need you," Cal repeats, his hands caressing Gillian's neck and face, her whole body, in a sensual frenzy.

"Cal," she tries to bring him to his senses although she has to be aware that it is most likely pointless by now. He is beyond rhyme or reason.

"Stop being a fucking psychologist," he growls, seeing the anger flit across her face, the fact that she knows he didn't mean it as an insult probably the only thing that holds her back from pushing him away. Cal takes the chance and lets his hands explore her body some more, starting to unbutton her blouse while kissing her neck, especially the soft spot that makes her legs turn to jelly. Thank God, Emily is not home tonight.

"Just be...," he doesn't know how to end the sentence. They are not married, she is not his wife, and it sounds weird to call her his girlfriend. Maybe this sums it up best, "Just be mine."

He continues his relentless attack on her body that is rather desperate and rough than tender but appeals to all her senses with a consuming intensity until she pushes herself off the wall and right into his arms, finally giving up her restraint. Now, that he knows she wants it, too, it can't happen fast enough. Although Cal is still completely dressed, it takes much too long to feel her bare skin. Instead of further unbuttoning her blouse, he rips it up. It wasn't one of her favorites, anyway.

They stumble and fall onto the bed. Just like Cal, Gillian seems to have given up on waiting, not bothering with his clothes. She simply fumbles around with his belt and unzips his pants. If he ever had doubts whether she is able to handle this on-the-edge-of-whatever version of himself, they are erased here and now. She is not only capable. Now that Gillian put her qualms aside, she even dares him, the way her almost naked body arches up against him adding to his excitement. There is a brief tussle who's on top and then the only sound is their mingled, heavy breathing.

* * *

Cal wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty and disoriented after a restless sleep. He needs a minute to realize that he is at home in his own bed. Then he realizes Gillian is not lying next to him. First he thinks she just went to the bathroom but when the minutes pass and she doesn't come back, an uneasy feeling starts to set in. He gets out of bed, heading downstairs. There is water running in the kitchen. His steps that were hurried before slow down. On one hand, he wants to get downstairs as quickly as possible. On the other hand, he is almost immobile, frozen on the spot. Memories of his past flood through him, leaving him cold and shivering. He can't do that another time. Yet, he continues to go downstairs step by step until his feet reach ground-level floor.

In the kitchen, the water is still running. Gillian is standing at the sink, her back to him. _See? She is standing upright, not lying on the floor. There is no blood._ Cal takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Gillian is wearing the top of his pajama, and in any other situation, he would have checked her bare legs out. Right now, though, Cal doesn't even notice what she is wearing; she could as well be naked and it wouldn't matter. Gillian apparently didn't hear him come down over the running water. Or maybe he is still dreaming. When he sees the knife, he wishes he is. He can't be awake. This can't happen again. Then he sees the blood, the red streams gouting down her hands, and the world stops.

There is no sound anymore, no movement, but somehow he finds himself right behind her, almost pushing her down when he grabs the knife and throws it away. Cal's face is right in front of hers, and through the nothingness that surrounds him, he registers that Gillian is scared to death, her eyes wide open, her mouth agape as if she is about to scream. When she manages to compose herself, she says something, but he is not able to hear the words because of the whirr in his ears. _He has to stop the bleeding._ That is all Cal is able to think. Gillian tries to get away from him and he notices that his hands are holding her shoulders tightly. Considering the way she writhes in pain, he is most likely hurting her, but this is not important right now. He can't help it, can't allow her to get away because he is the only one here, the only one who can save her. Otherwise, she will die. _Dear God, Gillian will die just like his mother and there will be no one left._ Cal has to prevent that no matter what the cost. Only when he grabs her wrists and wipes the red away to get a better look at the self-inflicted wounds, he realizes that there are no wounds, no open flesh. It is no blood. _Tomatoes. Gillian was slicing tomatoes._ And for whatever reason she did that in the middle of the night, it is no blood. _No blood. No wound. Gillian won't die. _

Cal lets go of Gillian's hands and tumbles back, slowly comprehending what just happened. This is not a dream. He assaulted Gillian – in the middle of the night, in his own house, hurt her, and all that solely for the reason that his imagination made him snap. He sinks to the floor, his legs suddenly not capable to carry his weight anymore, a sound leaving his throat that is a mixture of a yell and a howl. In an instant, Gillian is at his side, kneeling next to him. She pushes the knife out of their (his?) reach and then puts her arms around him. The whirr in Cal's ears abates. His hearing comes back and he listens to Gillian saying his name over and over. _Cal_. Even if he is already on the floor, he is falling, deeper and deeper, his eyes losing focus as the world turns upside down when his muscles deny him their duty. Gillian can't support his weight. Yet, she holds on to his body so that he ends up with his head in her lap. For a while he trembles uncontrollably like a leaf until he eventually quiets down and begins to relax.

* * *

"What was that?"

Gillian runs her fingers through his hair. She has been doing it the entire time, but her voice doesn't fit her soothing motions. It sounds shaky as if she is barely able to speak. There is always a first. A first for making love under such circumstances. A first for him attacking her. A first for her voice sounding like this. It's him indulging in her affection and support when it should be vice versa. Gillian shivers. She is sitting on the floor for how long now? He has no idea. But given the fact that she only wears a shirt, she has to freeze bitterly. It's somehow ironic that she is wearing the top of his pajama and he the bottom. They are a match even in this surreal situation.

"It's too cold. You have to get up."

Cal pushes himself in a sitting position, his muscles finally cooperating. Gillian doesn't move.

"I won't go _anywhere_ until you tell me what that was about," Gillian states determined. "And neither will you." Her voice still sounds hoarse, but her tone of voice and body language make abundantly clear that there is no way out for him. Not this time.

He shifts his weight so that they are sitting face to face. Cal notices the goosebumps on her naked legs, then the bruises on her wrists, and has to suppress the urge to blink or look away. He did that to her, and yet, here she is. Not scared of him. Not about to run away. In a situation like this, it's a good thing that she is a psychologist and able to scrutinize somebody's soul.

"I'm so sorry," Cal mumbles, his stare fixated on Gillian's bruises, not daring to reach out and touch her there. Most likely she has more of them on her arms where he grabbed her much too hard, the long sleeves covering them.

"I know you are, Cal. Now tell me what happened."

The look in her eyes is calm, focused. She has already figured out what happened or rather why. At least most of it. Nonetheless, she needs to hear it from him.

"Don't lie to me," she adds.

There is no _please_ neither in her intonation nor in her body language or micro expressions. That's why she used her words. This time there is no leeway for interpretation, no subtle communication without speaking. No matter how much Gillian loves him or how well she understands his motives as a psychologist – he hurt her physically. That's why she demands the truth, deserves to hear it from him in his own words. This is a turning point. They deliberately lied to each other in the past when they knew that was what the other wanted. Most of the time it wasn't even difficult, rather convenient. They also told each other the truth as far as practicable although there are still some secrets. But this, Cal's behavior and the fallout, doesn't allow anything less than the truth, no matter how inconvenient or painful. Anything else will tear them apart.

Gillian reaches for his hand and holds it in a way that he ends up touching her wrist right where the bruises are.

"Tell me," she whispers.

The thoughts and pictures are rushing in, but this time Cal doesn't snap or lose his focus on reality. This time he uses his own words to tell the woman he loves about the most devastating incidence in his entire life. Gillian is the one person who knows most of what happened back then, but even she doesn't know everything.

_He didn't hear a thing. Didn't sense anything. To this day, he doesn't understand why. She was his mother, for God's sake. He should have known, should have at least sensed something was wrong, that she didn't actually look forward to spend time with her family, that she had deliberately lied to her therapists so that they would release her from the mental hospital and let her go home, unaware that the only reason she wanted to be there was to kill herself._

Cal lifts Gillian's hand to his mouth, kisses the back of her hand and her wrist. It appears to be a gentle gesture and it is, but it is also a subconscious movement to half cover his mouth before he says the next words because he is downright scared to say them out loud.

"I was in the next room. I was... _right there_ when she killed herself and I... didn't know. I was expecting a cake and laughter but instead there was blood and a cold oven."

He doesn't realize he is crying until he feels his own tears on his hand that is still holding hers and sees Gillian tear up, too. Cal swallows and continues to talk.

_Most of this day is a blurry memory. Sometimes Cal is grateful for it; sometimes he wishes he could see every minute with an intense clarity no matter how painful it would be. The ambulance that arrives without siren's wailing because there is no one to save anymore; it's only a formality to confirm his mother's death. A doctor telling him sorry. Strangers everywhere and then... silence... his heart beating, a clock ticking, but he felt as if he had lost all connection to the world, as if he was weightless and his feet were about to leave the ground any minute. He would simply float away because there was no one, nothing, left. _

There is also silence in the here and now when Cal stops talking, but it feels good or at least not dreadful. As difficult as it was, it was also a relief to talk about it. Some things he just doesn't understand. The burden of that memory has been weighing heavily on him for so long, why did he snap only now? This year of all the years that have passed?

"What if it happens again?" he asks Gillian, the psychologist. He needs a professional answer from her whether the woman he loves is in danger to be hurt by him again.

"Most likely not," she answers. "The pressure inside you needed an outlet. Now that it has gotten out, I don't think it will happen again." Still, it's only _most likely_, she _doesn't think _it will happen again, but it could. Psychology never can be 100% sure.

"If there's a risk that... I can't put you at risk," Cal's voice is strained.

Gillian looks down at their intertwined hands and fingers.

"Did it happen before?" she then asks quietly. Cal shakes his head as an answer. She keeps looking at him, taking a deep breath. "Then I don't think it will happen again." He frowns questioningly. "Think about it, Cal. What is different this year?" Gillian makes a brief pause and then answers her own question. "Me. Me and you, being together. That is the difference; that was the trigger. Such major outbursts as yours have a purifying effect and are usually not repetitive."

"But you're not...," he can't say the word.

"...suicidal," she finishes the sentence for him. "No, I'm not." A lot of bad things happened in Gillian Foster's life, but despite everything she always loved life, even in the darkest moments. Cal knows that. She doesn't need to explain the rest; he can do the math. Cal is and always has been afraid to lose Gillian. In retrospect, he shouldn't be surprised that his greatest fear and most horrible memory melted and caused the outburst.

"No, you're not," he repeats her words, pulling her closer and kissing her softly. "You're not."

"Can we get up now and go to sleep," he then asks, suddenly so tired that he barely can keep his eyes open. There are only two to three hours sleep left, anyway.

"Yeah." She nods. "Let's just clean up first." Gillian stands up. He can tell that she is as tired as he is, but she doesn't want to come down and see the knife on the floor and the tomato mess in the sink first thing tomorrow morning.

It only takes a couple of minutes. Then they go upstairs to collapse into bed and drift into a dreamless sleep, their bodies entwined, consoling and protecting each other. Cal stays awake barely long enough to feel Gillian's body relax in his arms, his last thoughts involving her demand not to lie that was nothing but a desperate plea to be honest with her.

Cal wanted to lie, badly, because he was ashamed and devastated, because he wanted to be another man for her without a wrecked past and countless flaws. He only told Gillian the truth because she left him with no other option. It should have been impossible for her to love him after what had happened, after he had behaved like a choleric, unpredictable maniac. And yet, here she is in his arms, her love for him obviously an unbreakable code. Who would have thought that seeing him at his worst would make her love him even more. Because that's what he saw in her eyes when they sat on the cold kitchen floor.

_Don't lie to me._

_Never more, Gillian, never more._

* * *

**To be continued**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in updating. In case you've forgotten what this story is about – it's all about lying and telling the truth and which one at what time. The first part of the chapter sums it up a bit. To make amends for the delay, there will be not only one but _two_ unexpected twists in this chapter. Remember that Burns never happened in my time lime because Cal and Gillian got together rather soon after her divorce. The chapter starts with a little fluff and gets more serious as it continues because I couldn't help it. Think you know me by now.

Thank you for your support that keeps me writing.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

They've come a long way – from deliberately lying to each other because that was what they wanted, needed even, as long as they were in denial, over craving for the truth but not being able to admit it, at least not fully or in plain words, to this. _No more secrets_.

After Cal poured out his heart to Gillian during that somewhat surreal, dramatic night in his kitchen, it has become their unspoken agreement. It doesn't mean that they tell each other everything or address everything they read in their faces, hear in their voices. It would be unbearable, too much to handle. Everybody needs to keep some things to him- or herself. It is an essential part of every relationship to know which secrets are to keep and which to share. Insofar, Gillian and Cal are no exception.

There are many things from their past the other doesn't know as yet, including the mysterious phone calls Cal refused to tell Gillian about. The past is past, though. This is their future. _And never the twain shall meet._ At least that is the conjecture.

* * *

"You really shouldn't do that, Cal," Gillian still is laughing as they carry groceries inside.

She knows Cal is on to the woman who works in the grocer's shop. Every time they meet her there, he pretends to be able to read her thoughts and thereby manages to completely annoy and confuse her. The poor woman. Her face is like an open book; an amateur could read her easily, let alone Cal.

"Not my fault," he defends himself jokingly. "She practically _asked_ for it. You saw that, too, right?"

"No, I didn't see it, Cal. But, to quote Loker, I'm only second best in reading micro expressions."

"_Loker_...," Cal says with feigned contempt. "Has no clue, that one. You're the best in..." He turns around to check her out exaggeratedly, meaning that he is only a tad more obtrusive as usual. His hand wiggles up and down before he finishes the sentence, "...most likely _everything_, I'd say."

"Most likely?" she teases. "More like _certainly_."

"Oi. Bit too overconfident here, luv." Cal pauses to check her out again, this time for real. "Like that, actually." He clicks his tongue as if Gillian was a delicious dessert he just tasted. They both laugh and she kisses him fleetingly when she has to lean forward to put something in the kitchen cupboard.

"Speaking of Loker, I forgot to tell you that he will take two days off next week," Gillian states casually.

"He will?" Cal asks just to tease her.

"Yes, he will," Gillian answers, knowing what is about to come next.

"But he didn't ask _me_."

"Perhaps because he had already asked _me_." She doesn't know why she even bothers to answer, shaking her head in disbelief but not really frustrated. He is like this sometimes, well, most of the time. That's how Cal likes to play. Potato – potahto.

"Since when do our employees get days off anyway?" Cal tries another approach and Gillian has to smile. She likes it – the teasing, the light-heartedness. She was afraid their banter and innuendo would lose its spark, once they had gotten together, but it's all still there. Maybe even better than before.

"Since there is something like minimum vacation." She uses her _lectures for beginners_ voice, knowing that it will please him how she hits back at him. Her voice always turns Cal on. She wasn't aware of it until she noticed how much he liked it when she talked while they were... well. Needless to say that his voice does the same to her.

"Bollocks," Cal mumbles, getting closer to Gillian, trying to clasp her in his arms whereas she is trying to unpack the rest of their purchases. Yes, he really likes their little debates. Verbal foreplay.

"Stop that, Cal. Emily will be here tomorrow and we agreed to cook for her. That's why we bought all this. So, would you please help me put it away." Gillian manages to fake annoyance to some degree, but as soon as Cal holds her tight and kisses her neck, she gives in. At least for a moment.

"Hmmm...," she sighs. "You know you're a very talented cuddler."

"Very," he confirms, his mouth tickling her skin when he speaks. "Could show you some new tricks I learned. So, what did Loker do to get two days off? Did he try to hook up with you behind my back?" The change of subject is rather abrupt. Cal does it for no other reason than because he can and thinks it is fun.

"Very funny, Cal." Gillian plays along even if her voice lets on that she doesn't think it is _that_ funny.

"Uh-oh." Cal catches the subtle reproach in her voice immediately. He has learned from her as much when it comes to reading voices as she has from him when it comes to reading micro expressions. All the same, he continues to tease her, "Someone doesn't like to be romantically linked with her colleagues. Good thing, then, that I'm your partner and not your employee. Makes it... _acceptable_, aye?"

Cal senses that he is cornering her although he doesn't understand why. When Gillian simply says _yeah_ in response, pushes him back softly, and turns around to continue putting the food away in silence, he knows something is definitely going on. A short answer to give away as little emotion as possible plus avoiding eye contact so that he can't look for micro expressions. Emily does that, hoping she might outwit him, but Gillian? She knows it won't work. The fact that she did it, anyway, means that something bothers her so seriously that she couldn't help herself. His mock assumption that Loker tried to hook up with her can't be true, or can it? Cal is aware that Loker is physically attracted to Gillian. Then again, Loker is also physically attracted to Torres and every other woman he meets. It never would have crossed his mind that his playful remark might hold even a germ of truth. Not in a million years. Loker? Really? It has to be a misunderstanding and will resolve itself soon. Does he want to ask her about it? Damn straight! Will he do it or wait for her to tell him (provided she _will_ tell him)? He has to think about it. _No more secrets. _

* * *

Despite that intermezzo, they soon find their way back to each other, picking up where they left off. More banter and innuendo lead them upstairs eventually. Only when it's already dark outside, they get up again to have dinner. A perfect Saturday.

In between, Cal thought about asking or not-asking Gillian about whatever this is she obviously thinks she needs to hide from him. He had already decided against confronting her when he remembered something. It couldn't be possible, now could it? But the thought wouldn't let go of him and kept nagging at Cal. The phone calls he refused to tell Gillian about concerned a delicate matter. A _very delicate_ _matter_, actually. He handled it, made it go away for good. But now Cal wonders if there is a connection. Wouldn't it be an ironic stroke of fate if his secret and hers were the same?

The idea started to form in his head when they were still in bed, Gillian in his arms, and has developed into something he can't suppress any longer as soon as they have finished dinner. Gillian noticed his increasing tension. Given their earlier talk, she probably expects questions but for sure not that train of thoughts.

"What's the matter, Cal?" she asks with a curious, slightly uneasy glance in his direction. The fact that she addresses it so openly leads him to believe that she wants to talk. At least her words imply it. Her body language... not so much. Gillian is shifting around on her chair, fidgeting with her fingers.

He decides to go straight for the truth. Cal is not afraid to hurt Gillian. Over the months, they have developed a quite good strategy to deal with these kind of things. They talk, argue, delve into whatever issue bothers one of them. They never play dirty, though, never cross a line when they are not both willing to go there. It's complicated and sometimes exhausting, but it works.

"My comment this afternoon troubled you. The one about hooking up with one of your colleagues. I mean, someone else than me." It's a statement, not a question, leaving the decision whether to talk about it or not up to her.

They are sitting at the well-laid dinner table. Gillian always lays the table nicely even if they are more than casually dressed as they are now in pajama trousers and a shirt respectively tank top. Gillian puts her cutlery down, casting down her eyes along with it. Cal lets her pause for a moment to decide. But then the silence stretches and gets to him. She won't tell him that she had an affair with Loker, will she? When he pointed out that his comment had troubled her, he still hoped for a simple explanation that would resolve the supposed misunderstanding and not silence. Even if it is hypocritical, Cal isn't ready to accept an explanation that includes words like _Gillian_ and _affair_ in the same sentence unless his name is the _only_ other name that is mentioned.

When Gillian straightens herself, looks at him and swallows, Cal's uneasy feeling gets stronger. Shame and determination – that is what he sees in her face. He has no idea whose name she will tell him. If she will give him a name at all. But there was someone else. Someone who was allowed to touch and have her before he was. Someone who worked or still works for The Lightman Group. That's why she reacted the way she did. There is no way she has an affair now that they are together. Therefore, it has to be something that happened in the past. And since she definitely isn't the cheating kind, it must have happened sometime between her divorce and them getting together. It doesn't even necessarily have to be someone he knows. There are so many people working for them, and as opposed to him, Gillian tries to socialize with their staff, tries to get to know people. Well, obviously one of them much better than the others. Whoever it is, Cal will fire him first thing Monday morning if he actually has the nerves to still work for them.

The look in Gillian's eyes sets Cal's teeth on edge. She probably picked up on his thoughts of revenge and firing people, but by now he doesn't care anymore. Of course, Gillian had other men. She was married, and from what she told him, he knows that she had her fair share of boyfriends and one-night-stands before her marriage. He always assumed, though, that there had been no one after her divorce and before him. It is pathetic and proprietary, but it is a fact that matters to him (or rather a theory that is about to be disproven as it turns out).

Cal's thoughts become entangled more and more in a deliberate confusion until they jump back to his, granted ludicrous, assumption that their secrets could be somehow connected. Therefore, he misses the moment when Gillian is about to open her mouth to start talking and blurts another question out instead.

"Did you ever let someone take nude photos of you?"

Gillian's facial expression goes blank, completely blank. She can't believe he said what he just said and there is no possible reaction her brain can come up with to match his words. Then, suddenly, she becomes livid as if she was jump-started. There is anger reflected in her eyes. Lots of anger.

"What?" she hisses.

"You know. Pictures of you without clothes, any clothes. In bed, for example."

It's wrong to phrase it that light-hearted and casually. Cal knows that, but he doesn't know how else to ask her, wouldn't have gotten the words out otherwise. And with this, she is completely thrown off balance, has to steady herself with one hand against the table as if she might falter.

"What happened, Cal? One minute we are happy and joking around and the next you are accusing me of having an affair and having such kind of photos taken. Have you gone nuts? Or are you deliberately trying to humiliate me? Because if you are, let me tell you, it's working. I _am_ humiliated, even more so since I slept with you not an hour ago. And here you are blaming me for all sorts of things. Indulge me, Cal. What the hell is going on?"

She all but screamed at him. That is a first. Anger. Swearing. As far as his question about the pictures is concerned, he saw and heard it loud and clear – she has not the slightest idea what he is talking about. When it comes to the other subject, he is in the dark though. There most likely were micro expressions she flashed but considering she is his blind spot after all, he must have missed them. The only shaky proof he has that there actually was someone else is his gut feeling and her earlier reaction.

Gillian buries her face in her hands, then rubs her eyes. He can't tell if it's due to disbelief or if she's tired. Her voice definitely sounds tired when she repeats her last words, only without the swearing, "What is going on?"

She lets her hands drop down on the table and when he reaches out to stroke her arm, she doesn't pull it away. Confusion. Love. Trust. That's what Cal sees when Gillian watches him with such a broken look on her face that it tugs at his heartstrings. There is still anger, still lots of it, and – God forgive him – still humiliation, but beneath all that is trust that the imponderable man she loves beyond all reason didn't address those things for nothing.

"I don't accuse you, luv," Cal replies calmly, trying to deescalate the situation. "Knowing me, we both know that I'm not in a position to accuse you of anything. Ever. Just thought I caught something when I joked about you and Loker hooking up because of his free days and then I thought what if there is a connection to the photos?" his voice trails off, his thoughts already starting again to twist and turn in his mind.

"What photos?" Gillian asks, her voice quiet now, matching his tone of voice.

"The photos you know nothing about," Cal confirms what he saw. "But about the other thing... Was there someone else, Gillian? I can't see it and it's driving me crazy. So, please tell me." He is not ashamed of begging her.

She looks down, then up at him again, before she straightens herself and leans back so that his hand loses contact with her warm skin. Distance. She creates physical distance between them and this time he can read her. _Was there someone else, Gillian?_ The answer to his question is an ugly _yes_ that strikes him right in the face.

"It's been a long time. And it was a one-time occasion," her voice is a whisper. "At that time, I had given up hope that we would be together one day."

Interesting choice of words. (Aside from the part about having given up on them that breaks his heart, bringing home how close he apparently came to losing her to someone else.) Not a _one-night stand_ but a _one-time occasion_. Plus, she didn't say it was a mistake. There is a twinge of conscience in her voice and face, but there is also something defensive as if she wants to make sure that the other man won't get blamed. It hurts Cal even more to see that because it means that it wasn't only about physical attraction. In one way or another, there were feelings involved, if only feelings of affection or respect. However, before Cal is able to assimilate the information, Gillian remembers his question about the photos.

"Why did you ask me about those photos? Why do you think there could be such photos in the first place?"

Cal did what he did to protect her, but given the circumstances Gillian has a right to hear the truth.

"Because I saw them," Cal answers.

Keep it simple. It's complicated enough.

* * *

**I hope I didn't write myself into a corner with this chapter. **

**Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I have to think about how to disentangle those twists and still keep it remotely plausible.**

**Any presumptions? ;)**


End file.
